Betrothal
by Karri
Summary: Anne learned young that life wasn't fair...but it still has to be lived. Anne is 11, Maria is 6. (For February's Fete des Mousquetaires)


Stomping out into the garden, Anne cursed under her breath as she paused to kick at a hedge. She didn't want to live in Paris! Why would anyone want to live in Paris when Valladolid was so beautiful? Papa said Paris would be beautiful to her once it became home, but it would never be home. How could it be? Papa wouldn't be there. Filipe and Maria Anna and Carlos and Ferdinand and Margarita…none of them would be there. And they needed her! Needed her here, not in Paris. It wasn't fair!

 _Life is not fair,_ she heard the memory of her mother's kind, gentle voice whisper. Anne knew it was true; life was not fair. If it were fair, mama would not have died giving birth to Alphonse.

Anne whisked away the tears that has started to fall with the memory of her mama and stomped deeper into the garden. She'd gone only a few dozen steps, though, when the sound of soft sniffling halted her. Glancing around, Anne saw no one obviously nearby, so she closed and listened more closely.

Opening her eyes again, she let her ears guide her, instead of her eyes, and before long, found herself standing peering at a crouched lump that seemed to be trying very hard to blend into the hedge. The bundle of fabric shuddered softly now and again in accompaniment to the sniffling that had drawn her there.

"Maria?" she asked, gently, as she crouched beside the quivering bundle of silk and lace. The bundle responded with a whimper as a small hand reached out to pull at her bunched skirt in an attempt to better hide her tear-stained face. "Maria…" Anne, whispered again, wrapping her arms around the child and hugging her close. "What's the matter, little one?" she asked. "You can tell me."

Maria nestled into her sister, but shook her little head and simply sniffed instead.

"Come now, my heart," Anne tried again. "How can I make it better if I do not know what it is I am to fix?"

Maria shrugged, her gaze remaining downcast, but her small voice responded hesitantly, "I hate him! It's not fair!"

Anne tutted, even as she squeezed her sister reassuringly, before replying, "Hate who? What is not fair?"

"Father!" came the quick response. "He cannot send you away! He cannot! It's not fair!"

"Oh," Anne breathed. She hadn't realized word had spread so far so quickly. She'd barely found out about her betrothal herself. What did she say? How could she take the hurt from Maria when she felt it still so keenly herself? What would mama have said?

"Life is not fair, my sweet," she finally said. "Do not hate papa for that; it is something he cannot fix."

"But papa is the King," Maria responded fervently, her gaze shifting up to meet Anne's.

Anne smiled soothingly, before answering, "He _is_ King, but a King is only a man, little one—a man with great responsibility." Maria frowned, unconvinced, so Anne continued, "Papa's job is to make his kingdom a good, safe place for all the people that live in it. That _is_ what a good papa does, is it not?"

Maria nodded, but then frowned. "But he is _our_ papa. He should make certain it is a good, safe place for _us!_ All of us! But he's sending you away…and we won't have a mama, _again!_ That is _not_ being a good papa!"

"Oh, my little sweet one," Anne responded softly, "I know it seems that way. It feels that way to me as well, but papa is a good papa. We are his children, and he loves us with all his heart… But in a way all the people of the kingdom are his children. He must do his best for all of us," she soothed, hoping to convince herself, as much as Maria. "In this case, doing what is best for all of us means that I must go away."

"But it isn't fair!" Maria wailed, burying her head in the folds of her sister's dress.

"Life is not fair," Anne repeated. "It is not fair for anyone." She petted Maria's head gently, as she added, "we are royalty; for many our life seems untroubled by any woes of the world. We need not worry about clothes to wear or food to eat or a warm, safe place to sleep…we have all those in abundance."

"I do not care about my clothes or my bed!" Maria cried. "Papa can take them and give them away, if he would let you stay in return."

"Sssh," Anne soothed, "Papa could not do as much, not even if he wished it with all his heart." Maria lifted her gaze to meet Anne's. "Being king is a very important…with much responsibility, remember?" Maria nodded. "He must serve this kingdom…like a soldier serves the kingdom. The kingdom needs an alliance with France and papa must do what he can to accomplish it."

"It is still not fair," Maria reiterated with a sniff.

"No, it is not," Anne agreed. "There is much in life that is not fair…"

"Like when mama died?" Maria asked.

Anne nodded. "But think how much less fair the world seems to people who have less than we do…"

Maria scrunched her nose, defiantly. "I _told_ you," she insisted. "Papa can have all my things if he will let us keep you here with us."

Anne gave her sister another soft squeeze and tapped her gently on the nose. "I did mean clothes and bed and things… I meant, papa and our brothers and baby Margarita and our nurses and our tutors and everyone else that takes care of us and loves us and protects us." Maria frowned, not yet convinced, so Anne continued, "Mama went to heaven, but you still have papa and me and so many others who love you… You'll never be left alone in the world. But some people are…"

Maria titled her head, considerately. "All alone?"

Anne nodded. "We have so many people, it's hard to imagine, isn't it?" Maria nodded. "It's true, though. For many, less fortunate that we are, when their mama or papa goes to heaven, there is no one left. They are alone in the world."

Maria mused, briefly, but then wrinkled her nose, unhappily. "But everyone else that can care for me is not you…"

"I know, my love," Anne soothed. "But I am not gone yet. It is only a betrothal, it could be years yet before I marry Louis. You may well be as old as I am now by the time I actually go away to Paris."

Maria grimaced, "I do not think I want to take your place as mama for Carlos and Ferdinand and Margarita…"

Anne laughed ironically. "Nor did I want to take mama's place… But, as I've said, life is not fair. At least, when I go, I will not be going off to heaven, merely to Paris." She hugged her sister tighter. "And in the meantime, we must love and laugh and learn and fill our time so fully that we have a whole lifetime of remembrances to fill the letters that will stream here to Paris and back again once I've gone." She peered down at Maria. "Agreed?"

Maria hesitated, but then nodded, slowly. "Agreed," she sighed.

"And we must give papa the most love of all," instructed Anne, earning a disgruntled expression from Maria. "We must, Maria!" Anne insisted. "Papa has done what he must, not want he desires. His heart is surely as heavy as ours, and he will need our love and laughter and hope to give him strength," she continued, almost hearing the words, herself, spoken in her mother's gentle voice. "We _must_ do that for him."

Maria nodded, and Anne could see acceptance in her sister's eyes, even as she felt it in her own heart. Life was not fair… for a King or a peasant, for a father or a child; all anyone could do was to make the best of what life gave.


End file.
